We are not heroes
by SheenaBelmont
Summary: They were rebels, they didn't know how to be anything else. How were they supposed to take what they never had to begin with? What kind of life waited out there for them when they had already accepted the idea of death? There had to be something, something besides that war. One-shot.


_Just a one-shot I wrote after watching "Rogue One" for the third time. They were heroes, they deserved so much better (romantically or not). I hope you like it._

 **Disclaimer:** Rogue One belongs to Disney, not me.

* * *

There it was, that sensation again. It was strangely familiar, as if he had been there before. It was very difficult for him to move, he could barely breathe normally. The left side of his body was practically paralyzed. But he knew he couldn't stop. He mustn't stop for anything in the world. He kept moving forward through the hazy chaos – smashed ships, fallen trees, lifeless bodies. He could hear nothing, as if every sound had been turned off. But he could clearly sense the burning smell. It filled his nose, it filled everything. Scorched sand, melted plastic, red-hot metal... Maybe his vision was so blurred because of the smoke floating in the air.

There it was again. It was like he knew beforehand where he was going. Almost dragging he reached the immense beach. That endless beach that kept going no matter how much he walked and walked and walked. How much more he needed to walk? His body barely responded but he kept walking, with no particular destination but in a straight line. At some point the beach should end. And it had to happen before what he somehow sensed was about to happen. It was something important. But what?

Oh, of course. _That_ moment. He had experienced it before. When everything collapsed. As if the sun of that planet came down on it. The whole horizon was made of a pure light that blinded him. A burning heat sweltered his skin, his bones. It grew more and more intense till it was unbearable. The white light get closer too, wrapping him, devouring him till there was nothing left of him. Then suddenly the panic came up because he couldn't run, there was no place to flee, his throat was so dry he was not even able to yell and all he wanted to know was where she was…

 _Jyn… Jyn! JYN._

He woke up sweating, cold. His wet fringe was stuck on his forehead while he tried to inhale desperately, as if the air could disappear at any moment. He wasn't going to run out of air nor burn his lungs with the mere act of breathing like that day but he needed at least a minute to calm down and understand it. The anxiety attack was followed by a coughing fit. He suffered from chronic respiratory problems since then. He had been told he'd suffer from it for the rest of his life, as well as the neurological injuries that prevented him from move properly his left arm and leg. They were "unrepairable", he was told. He couldn't care less. Not when he was alive and had escaped from hell. _Twice_.

"Cassian?"

Jyn walked into the bedroom, probably warned by his cries and coughs, carrying Lyra in her arms. She didn't sleep much since then, maybe that way she avoided nightmares. She didn't need to spend many nights not sleeping a wink because of Lyra, though. The baby behaved well but she had the habit of staying awake till wee hours of the morning. Afterwards she doze briefly on the couch with her on her arms (which seemed help her to relax) and she woke up before sunrise.

"I'm—

He couldn't finish the sentence. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce him, he could read in her face she perfectly knew he was not fine. As if she dared him to say it aloud. He didn't need to conceal, though – not when both had been in that beach.

"You're not" she reiterate.

Jyn approached and sat at the edge of the bed. Cassian looked back at her. Her skin was more jaundiced now, marks on it due to extended exposure to radiation, but her face was still the same. Her eyes were as bright and vivid as before even after losing part of her vision. She didn't seem to care. What if everything was a little more blurred than before? She was alive and she could see her daughter's face, hear her cry, feel her breathing when she laid on her chest. It was more than enough.

He made an annoyed face, she frowned. It had been three years since the battle of Scariff. They never needed to say much, despite their relationship in the beginning being based on arguments and opposite opinions. After Eadu everything was as clear as water. Confrontation and misunderstandings became gestures and gazes, which were more than enough. It had been Jyn the one who said that things had to be proved, not only said, hadn't it? After accomplishing their mission, while they helped each other to come back to the surface, while they came down the communication tower in that elevator, it was like they said everything. What could they say that they didn't knew?

 _We've done it. We've give them a chance. I wish we had more time. I'm better because I met you. I care about you. I want to stay with you._

They already knew all that. As well as they were conscious of the fact that it was their end because they were to die in that beach. So they stayed there because they hadn't any strength left and as much as they wanted to run, the Death Star silhouette had appear on the horizon so there was no way to escape.

It never happened. They never knew how, maybe thanks to the Force, but they were rescued in the last ship that avoided the massive weapon's damage. Jyn thought it was the Force, while Cassian believed more it was luck. He was a bit more pragmatic even if he didn't doubt in any way the Force's existence, especially after all the things he had seen and all the years he had spent fighting for the Rebellion.

Then, after something of such magnitude, how to carry on? All their friends were dead – Chirrut, Baze, Bodhi, even K2. Only they could save themselves. The words were again unnecessary for them to know they agree. They had given too much, all they had. They had done more than enough. They'd always support the Rebellion but they were in no condition to fight anymore (and not only because of their physical disabilities). No one dared to ask them for anything. So it came a day when they were recovered from the serious injuries suffered in Scariff in which they took a ship and just left. No regrets, no goodbyes. Of course their allies always knew where to find them. They kept providing help and asylum to the rebels but they were no more formal part of the Alliance.

From time to time news about them came to the rebel headquarters – which their ways hadn't separated, they settled in a small planet near the Outer Rim, the young Lyra Erso had been born less than a year ago. They let themselves be seen not much. They went to Bail Organa's hasty funeral and the ceremony in memory of Alderaan's victims. Both had known the senator himself. About the tragedy, they couldn't help but think they could had share the fate of Alderaan's people. They paid their respects to princess Leia and she was at last able to thank them for the crucial service they provided to the cause. They didn't even meet Luke, the hero who made possible the final objective of the task they launched. However, they thought that Chirrut'd had been touched to meet the last jedi. _The Force is with me and I am one with the Force._ Sometimes Cassian remembered his mantra and it encouraged him to continue forward, despite not being as much as a believer as he was.

It wasn't like he hadn't reasons to live and be grateful, of course, especially since Lyra was born. Before that, in the Rebellion, he hadn't think about his future, not even once, because he knew he could die anytime. And yet the less possible scenario he could imagine was him being a father. It was something he and Jyn decided and he didn't regret it in any way. The problem was that he _was_ a rebel. He had never been anything else. He had been a pilot, a spy, a programmer, only to serve the cause. He only knew how to be a rebel, he never knew anything different. The same went for Jyn, who had spent half of her life running away from invisible but completely real enemies. They were sure they made the right decision (as if they could do anything else) but it was not as simple as retiring and letting others to finish the job. They didn't know how to have ordinary lives. They weren't worried about the Rebellion because it was in good hands and they cooperated the best they could. But how were they supposed to take what they never had to begin with? What kind of life waited out there for them when they had already accepted the idea of death?

Cassian was still looking for the answer, every day. He searched for it in Jyn, in Lyra, in Galen's memory (whom he highly admired), in Chirrut's mantra, in the hope of their rebel mates, in the universe, in the Force. There had to be something, something _besides_ that war.

"Yes, I am" he insisted without a doubt. His gaze was fixed on Lyra. Once again, Jyn didn't need words to understand.

If he had learnt something, Cassian thought while Jyn took refuge in his hug, was that saving one's life didn't guarantee a happy ending, not even an end. They still were in the middle of their story and he had the intention of finding what he was looking for. May it be something that could erase the horrors they suffered. He would find it even if he had to spent countless nights without sleeping, looking at the stars to stumble upon it.


End file.
